Up to Something

"I could have helped you, you know," gets shouted from the kitchen in between the sound of one cabinet slamming then another. Luke would go in there to preserve the wood finish if he thought Bo was doing any damage. He's not, he's just the same loud cousin he's always been. Besides, they're not exactly Luke's cabinets to protect anymore. "You could have waited."

The same theme, with only the most minor of variations, has been playing since the moment the man slammed his way through the front door. Seems to have gone on a little long, feels forced and strained.

"I figured you'd be happy enough about it." Not having to do the work, them getting out of this place that he knows Bo isn't really enjoying; Luke expected both would be a relief to Bo. "Besides, you're going to help me with the rest of it." He just didn't want his cousin, tsking over things that got tossed in the fire. Trying to pretend he wasn't thrilled to see any mementoes of old girlfriends burn, wanting to be fair and tell Luke he could keep things he doesn't really have any interest in anymore and has simply been too lazy to get rid of before now.

"Later," Bo answers, coming back from where he's just put away about six bags worth of groceries. Luke can't remember the last time there was this much food in the house, at least not when there wasn't the looming threat of a blizzard. "You ain't in a hurry, are you?"

Well, he's been doing nothing much more than sitting on his ass for more than a week, and the stated goal of the trip was to get him packed up and moved back to Hazzard, so it's hard to call it a hurry. More like catch up after long delay. Inertia had to be overcome, and now that it has, he reckons he'd best get on with what he came here to do.

He shrugs. "Ain't no point in putting it off."

Popping knees and Bo's getting down there on the floor along with him. Loud grunt, and it's just sad how quickly they've gone from being young and spry to turning into their Uncle Jesse. Though he's pretty sure he can still slide across the General's hood just as smoothly as he ever did.

"When was you thinking of leaving?" Bo asks, and it's one of those questions that tries to sound casual when it really isn't.

"I ain't a hundred percent sure. I still ain't figured out whether we need a truck." Or maybe just a bigger fire. But there are things that can't be burned, that absolutely have to go back with them. Which just happen to be exactly the same things that came all the way out here with him. "It'll be a couple of days yet."

"A couple of days," Bo echoes, picking through one of the boxes Luke has already packed. Leave it to Bo to offer his help then manage to do the exact opposite. "You really figure you can get everything done by then?" Dissatisfied with making a mess of only one box, Bo moves on to the next, starts poking around. "You got to cancel the electricity, get your mail forwarded…"

"Turn off the gas," Luke says, yanking the box Bo's crawling toward away from him before he can get into it. "I know that, Bo." After all, he's not the Duke cousin that would walk out of the house leaving the stove on and the water running, with only the barest hope that the two would cancel each other out. "Was you looking for something in particular?" Because Bo's going through his boxes like he expects to find something there, and it seems to him like he shouldn't have to go sifting through ashes in order to prove he's not bringing back any trinkets from past affairs.

"Nope," Bo answers, making his way over to yet another box, relentless in his efforts to disrupt Luke's organization. "I was just thinking, how come you're in such a hurry to get going? We ain't hardly done nothing here yet."

"That's because," he's breathing slowly, speaking through his clenched teeth. Trying with everything in him not to be provoked by the toddler that's crawling around his floor, poking curious fingers into places they don't really need to go. Somewhere about ten days ago, when they were halfway between Georgia and here, he decided he wanted this man. Figured that fifteen years of being apart hadn't worked out the way either of them might have hoped it would, reckoned that he'd missed the man more than he'd ever missed anything, even the boundless energy of youth and the hairline that used to be a good inch closer to his eyebrows than it is now. It would be a shame to have to kill his cousin already, before even two weeks have passed. "There ain't nothing much to do here. We already been over this, Bo." That last word comes close to being a bark; yet another box is at risk for rummaging, and Luke has some fantasy of preventing it with his tone of voice. Doesn't work.

"We ain't been skiing," Bo says, shrugging his shoulders. Or at least doing his best to shrug and dig through Luke's things at the same time.

"There ain't been no snow. If you want to ski, we got to head north, most likely." Besides, skiing is cold, and so far Bo hasn't shown any real inclination toward tolerating the climate of these relative lowlands.

"Okay," Bo says, as if going north had been an offer instead of a reason to give up on the notion of skiing.

At least his need to be destructive seems to be satiated now. Here comes Bo, on hands and knees, crawling right up to Luke's face. Kiss then, excited like the lick of a puppy, to seal the deal. Even if he has to realize that Luke hasn't agreed to anything.

Another kiss, this one more serious, and Luke can't shake the sensation that Bo is up to something. That thought gets lost in the third kiss, when Bo's hand comes up off the floor to catch the back of his neck.

"You figure," Luke asks when the kiss ends. Or pauses, maybe, because Bo doesn't go more than the distance it takes to press their foreheads together, gentle rub of noses. "When we get home, that we'll just do this all the time?" Because it seems to him like it's only been a few hours since the last time they were engaged in something much like this.

"I reckon," Bo answers, "we'll do it as often as you're up to it. I know," little grinning kiss there. "You're older than me and you ain't gonna be able to keep up all the time." Another kiss; cute how Bo follows it with that funny little frown of pity for his poor aging cousin. "But I'll try not to wear you out."

It's a distraction, wrapped up tidily and presented as a goad. Luke could peel back the layers, go looking for what's underneath this sudden need on Bo's part to keep him from packing, but there's that smug smile there popping up on the man's face that needs to be wiped off, first.

"You figure," he says as he's shoving against that wide rib cage in front of him. Should seem strange to touch another man like this, hands grabbing at places where breasts aren't, pushing him onto his back so their hips can find ways to nestle together, but it doesn't. No matter what they do or where their hands get to wandering, it's still Bo. He's known the body under his for his whole life, and if he'd never touched certain parts of it until a couple of weeks ago, it never mattered. Seems like he always knew what they felt like anyway. "You're going to have to slow yourself down for me?"

Convenient how the man topples so easily, how he finds his back and lets Luke crawl right up over him. "Well, yeah," he answers, hooking that hand behind Luke's neck again, must've lost the grip in his effort to accommodate the new position he's in. Pulling him down, another gentle kiss. One that seems to reckon he's old and fragile, easily injured. "But that's okay. It ain't your fault you're decrepit."

So much for sweet little kisses that protect a frail man from harm, he's got Bo pinned to the floor with most of his weight, kissing like wrestling, lips, teeth and tongues vying for position. Hands kneading on Bo's shoulders, reminding him which one of them has a physical strength equal to what it was when they dug ditches, built fences, lugged around heavy jugs of contraband whiskey for a living. One knee between Bo's spindly legs, off-center rub.

And just look who's already out of breath there underneath him – the young man with so much energy.

So Luke backs off, sits himself back onto Bo's leg to consider the situation. The floor's cold, but the fire's warm. There are boxes all around them, and he's pretty sure the door's not locked. There are more cons than pros to what they've started here. Which is why he starts to work open the buttons of Bo's shirt. Slowly, feeling each inch of skin that gets revealed.

"Just giving you a breather," he informs Bo.

Hands come up then from where they got dropped onto the floor as some part of aiding him in his undressing task. Luke's expecting another good yank against his neck, but those fingers never get that high; they stop at his collar and pull. Ripping sound, and he's not sure whether it's a seam or the middle of the cloth that tears. There's some small chance it's just buttons getting torn right off their threads, but he's pretty sure they wouldn't make that much noise.

"Bo," he snaps, as his shirt gets shoved back off his shoulders.

"I'm all rested up now," and there's the devil's grin there below him. Firelight in caught in that blonde hair, glowing across his face, and it's a dang good thing Bo's so damn pretty or Luke would have to kill him.

Luke shrugs off what's left of his shirt, tossing it off his wrist to land wherever the hell it wants to. Needs his hands free to get back to where he was working the buttons on Bo's shirt, because it seems like his kid cousin needs a lesson in treating clothes with a certain amount of respect. Lips then, following after his fingers down Bo's chest until he hits the soft stomach underneath. Arching below him, Bo meeting him more than halfway, panting sounds like maybe he's gotten a little to close to something hot. Too tempting, Luke finds himself a particularly sensitive spot and stays there, kissing, sucking, until he gets tugged up by the ears.

"Tired?" he asks the heavily breathing man below him, a fool's mistake. Kissing again, and somehow Bo's stealing his breath from him. Tickling down his chest, light touch of fingers, but it's that kiss that's making his head spin, making his eyes droop against the effort of staying open. Somewhere in there his pants get opened, smoothness of a palm there low on his belly. Kiss breaks as Bo's long fingers wrap themselves around him.

"Luke," he whispers, and that right there deserves some retaliation. Luke's kissing his way toward Bo's ear, but it gets twisted away from him. "I got something for you." That's very thoughtful of him, and they can discuss it later. Except for Bo's free hand there on his face, turning it away from that ear and making some attempt to look him in the eye. Stops mid stroke below, too, just to make sure he has all of Luke's attention.

"What?" he grunts. Doesn't sound old and tired, not to his own ears. No, it's closer to annoyed, he's pretty sure.

Hand off his face then, reaching around one of the nearer boxes, fishing. Funny how the other hand seems to explore Luke's nether reaches in sympathy, or maybe that's just meant to keep him relatively immobile until Bo manages to find whatever he's after.

"Here—here," Bo pants, holding up a bottle for Luke to look at. Clear liquid in a plastic container, bright orange price tag halfway covering the brand name. Mineral oil. "Luke, I want you to." His stomach twists, turns, flips right over inside of him. "Please."